


Livin' La Vida Loca

by wordyanansi



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Teachers, F/M, Salsa dancing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-19
Updated: 2015-09-19
Packaged: 2018-04-21 12:49:15
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,273
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4829726
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wordyanansi/pseuds/wordyanansi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bellamy and Octavia move to Arkadia, joins a salsa club, and is basically a human disaster.</p><p> Octavia's angry, Raven's amused, and Clarke would like to know what the hell is going on.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Livin' La Vida Loca

**Author's Note:**

> So I had a bad pain day and started writing this and then I kept writing this after the pain passed and I'm not sure it's any good but I've wanted to write a salsa dancing au for a while because it's my passion. 
> 
> Ironically, my best dance chemistry was with a gay guy named Rob and not my amazing husband, who I have some pretty great dance chemistry with. But my first salsa teacher fell in love with the guy she ended up marrying the first time they danced together, and it's hilarious because I knew him in primary school and he was a construction worker who became a dance teacher after he met her. 
> 
> Anyway. This is a story and it's one in the morning and I don't know why I do these things when people are waiting on sequels to fics. But here we are.

All the best memories Bellamy has of his mother are of her dancing. Aurora, even her name sounded like she was a dancer, and there was something magical in her when she danced. They had moved around a lot, but as a seamstress, Aurora had never been out of work for long. And everywhere they went, she would find a salsa club, or a regular social dancing night, and soon he and Octavia were taken to Sunday afternoon picnics in the park, spending a late weeknight in dusty old halls watching the adults dance while the children played at percussion.

 

So when, for the first time, Bellamy moves to a new town, without his mother but with an eighteen year old Octavia in tow, the first thing he does once he’s moved in is find a salsa club.

“We don’t have to do this, you know,” Octavia complained, trailing behind him. She didn’t have the urge for dancing Bellamy had inherited, and he didn’t blame her not loving this. Not after he’d dragged her away from her ‘friends’ to a new town.

“It’s tradition,” he offers instead, double checking the gps. Octavia scoffs.

“It was her tradition, and she’s gone,” Octavia said shortly. “I don’t want to do this. I’d rather join martial arts or some other community program.” Bellamy sighs.

“O, I get it, alright? But I don’t really want to leave you home alone yet, the television isn’t even here yet. Besides, it’s one night and I promise to do the lifts you like and no shining, just for you,” he promises and he gets the hint of a smile out of her, which he takes as agreement.

 

There aren’t any signs, so Bellamy follows the sounds of the rich latin music and the strong clave beat to the room the lessons are held in; up some twisted stairs that stick with soft drink above one of the more depressing bars he’s ever seen. Octavia’s pulling a face, and he wants to agree, but he breaches the threshold and is transfixed by the sunlight streaming in through large windows as it fades and a couple dancing as if nothing else exists. No, not the couple, the girl. She was silhouetted due to the lighting, and he couldn’t make out her features, but there was something in her, the way she moved, that was magic… that reminded him of his mother, that same magic. His heart landed in his throat and he swallowed thickly.

“LA style,” Octavia commented quietly beside him. “They’re good.” She nudged him when he didn’t respond. “Bell. Are you good? I know you prefer Cuban, but it’s all salsa.” The music stopped and the woman was dropped into a low dip. The world was still for a moment, the couple in the dip, the room silent, and people watching from the sidelines. Bellamy breathed out long and low. The moment was broken by the next track starting on the sound system and Bellamy gave himself a quick shake and grinned at his sister.

“Yeah. Come on, let’s show them how it’s done,” he says as he offers his hand. She rolls her eyes at him but accepts it, grinning.

 

“Alright everyone, let’s begin,” the woman says, stepping out of the streaming sun, revealing herself. Blonde hair, blue eyes, creamy skin, and a pale blue singlet that clung to her form, darkened with sweat in a few places. She smiled at him and his sister. “Welcome to our new faces. I’m Clarke, and this is Miller,” she introduces herself and her dance partner. The guy (Bellamy had almost forgotten about him) steps forward, and he’s good looking, and of latin descent. He takes her hand and gives her a smile, and Bellamy’s eighty percent sure he accidentally fell in lust with someone who is taken.

“I’m Bellamy, and this is my sister Octavia,” Bellamy replies, trying to stop being less of a human disaster, and more of a new guy in town who is looking to make connections.

“Alright, this is our intermediate class, so fall in everyone, we’re warming up, follow along as best you can,” Clarke says, and she and Miller walk to the front of the room, everyone falling in behind them.

“You said no shines,” Octavia mutters under her breath, rolling her ankles. Bellamy stretches his neck and rolls his shoulders, loosening himself up.

“It’s a warm up. I said no shines if we danced together. It’s not the end of the world to follow the leader, O,” Bellamy replies.

“There’s no soul to it. I want to feel the music. You’re just as bad as I am about this,” Octavia complains as the music starts.

“LA basic, lead footwork,” Clarke calls over her shoulder. Bellamy hears the clave and his feet move before he even really thinks about it. He’s not familiar with the song, but the beat is always the same and he loses himself in it.

“Right hand turn,” Clarke calls. “Left hand turn.” Bellamy can see her smiling as she talks, and sees Octavia grin out of the corner of his eye. And he knows he’s smiling too. There’s something about salsa that always feels like home.

  
  


The class is over in an hour, and Clarke instructs partner changes every ten or so minutes, and so he ends up meeting all the ladies in the class. Harper learned at university in another state, and had been in Arkadia for two years now. Roma was here with her fiance, learning for their wedding. Raven, stunning, sarcastic Raven, who was in a car accident six months ago and wasn’t meant to be dancing, but she refused to stop. Callie, an older Asian lady, recently divorced. Mel who was keeping her friends Sterling and Monroe company. He was pretty sure he and Raven were going to end up getting drunk together at some point and talking increasing levels of shit about some random sporting event. But he doesn’t get the chance to dance with Clarke, though he does see her looking at him approvingly a couple of times through the lesson. She approaches him as he is swigging from his water bottle as the social dancing starts up. He turns to watch the couples dancing as she stands beside him. Octavia is dancing with a beast of man who has surprising grace, and she’s smiling. Miller and Raven are dancing and laughing. Mel and Sterling are trying to string together some basic moves, and Harper is leading Monroe.

“So you and your sister clearly aren’t beginners,” Clarke tells him, smiling. He smiles back.

“No, we’re not. Family tradition,” he admits. “But you run a good class.” She presses her lips together and her eyes sparkle with amusement.

“So glad I have your approval. Means the world to me,” she tells him. “New in town?” Bellamy nods.

“Yeah. We needed a change, and they hired me at Arkadia High, so here we are,” he explains with a shrug. Clarke raises her eyebrows.

“And you dragged your sister along with you?” Clarke asks. Something tightens in him. She’s pretty and he’s definitely in lust, but there’s something in her voice that feels like judgment and she has not yet unlocked their tragic backstory. Half the reason they needed a change was the way Octavia reacted to Aurora’s death. He didn’t need her pre-judged before they even got started.

“Something like that,” Bellamy replies tightly, his eyes fixed on his sister dancing. She hadn’t looked so happy in a long time. He could see Clarke fidgeting out of the corner of his eye.

“Right. Well. I uh, I hope we’ll see you again next week?” Clarke asks hopefully as the song ends. He feels a little guilty for snapping at her, so he offers her a half smile.

“For sure. If you’ll excuse me, I owe my sister the next dance,” he tells her, and she smiles back at him.

“See you around, Bellamy,” Clarke calls out, and he gives her a nod, and another smile, and then moves to meet his sister.

  
  


They aren’t the first to leave, but they aren’t the last either. Clarke waves as he leaves from where she’s dancing with Octavia’s giant, and he waves back. He and Octavia walk down the stairs in silence, but as they make it out onto the street, Octavia sighs.

“Okay, so, maybe you were right. That was pretty fun,” she admits. “And Clarke and Miller seem nice. And Lincoln’s great. Everyone really.” Bellamy smiles at her and gives her a hip check.

“I feel like I should get this in writing. Record it somehow. She admits her big brother was right about something,” Bellamy teases. Octavia hip checks him back.

“You’re a nerd. And you’re hot for Clarke, it’s disgusting,” she shoots back. He pulls a face rather than admit she’s right. O shoves him and sighs. “You would not believe how many of those women wanted to know if you were single. Fawning over you. This is why you like salsa.” Bellamy laughs.

“Yeah, and you’ve never broken any hearts,” he teases. “Let’s face it, Blake genes. We’re just too darn pretty,” he sighs. Octavia laughs again. Bellamy smiles at her quietly, letting the moment happen, savouring it. For all that he’d pushed this, bringing her here, a new start, dragging her to salsa… he didn’t think it was really going to work. He didn’t think he’d see her happy again and not self destructive for months. But she’s laughing. And if it all snaps back tomorrow like a rubber band, tonight was worth something.

  
  
  


His first week at Arkadia High goes pretty much as he expects. Three days of professional development and team building, two days of students trying to orient themselves in the new year, and Bellamy feeling lost in a sea of teenagers that don’t yet have names. The principal refuses to use anyone’s first name, and he feels vaguely like a naughty child every time Mr Kane calls him ‘Mr Blake’. He finds Raven (‘Ms Reyes’, divorced and definitely not wanting to talk about it) teaching graphic design, wood work, metal work, auto shop, and, strangely, Spanish. She is, coincidentally, the other year nine home room teacher, and he was definitely right about them bonding. There is going to be some serious rivalry between their classes this year, and neither of them can wait to put their kids through ridiculous challenges every couple of weeks. Mr Green (‘Monty’, he’s told in a whisper) is teaching science and mathematics to the higher grades, while Mr Jordan (‘Jasper, Mr Jordan freaks me out when the students use it’) teaches the lower ones in the same. Miss Maya Vie is teaching the lower English and history classes, and they have a couple of scaffolding meetings to ensure there’s follow on between year eight and nine, and she’s nice, if not a little mousy. He’s scared a little by the intensity of the librarian, whose name he’s told as Anya, but she refuses to let the kids call her anything other than ‘Librarian’. He thinks he’d probably be scared to borrow books if she’s the gatekeeper, but he’s told that the kids kind of like her ferocity, makes them feel bad ass for reading. He ends up meeting everyone except the school social worker. He’s told that Miss Griffin, the social worker, will be around to see him on the first day of class as he has a couple of at risk kids in his home room, but she’ll find him. What he’s not expecting, is for that social worker to be Clarke.

 

He sees her at 8:30am on the first day of school, laughing with some kids in the quad, and she looks like she’s genuinely happy to be there. At first, he thinks she’s a parent, or dropping a niece or nephew off. But then he hears a couple of kids greet her in passing.

“Hey Miss Griffin!” they call out. His stomach clenches. Social worker. That tone in her voice. He’d been so ready to like her too, but he’d never met a social worker that wasn’t a meddling do-gooder who needed a reality check. She greets them by name and goes back to her conversation. He wishes she were less attractive as he turns on his heel and walks away.

 

She finds him just as lunch begins, when he’s still shuffling his papers around on his desk, but after all the students have left. She knocks on the door jam and smiles at him, sheepish. He looks up at her and doesn’t know whether he’s going to smile or not.

“Probably should have mentioned you’d see me at work, huh?” Clarke asks, charming, and despite himself he smiles at her.

“Heads up might have been nice,” he agrees. “But Raven was a nice surprise.” Something flashes over Clarke’s face before she covers it with a smile.

“Yeah, Raven’s awesome. How are you going? Met everyone?” she asks. He shrugs.

“I think I’ve covered the staff, but it’s going to be a while on the students. Kane said we needed to chat about a couple of kids in my home room?” Bellamy asks. Clarke nods, businesslike.

“Yeah, of course. Is now a good time, or?” Clarke asks, her body stiffer than before. Bellamy shakes his head.

“Sorry. I’ve got a shared duty with Monty now, and I need time to eat and call O,” he tells her. She smiles softly at him, and he wants to smile back, but he chants ‘social worker’ until his stomach turns to bile.

“It’s nice you and your sister are so close,” Clarke offers. He can’t help but feel patronised.

“We’re family,” he says shortly. “We look out for each other. Excuse me.” He brushes past her, but she catches his wrist as he passes, and he stops dead, looking at where her hand wraps around the skin of his wrist.

“Hey, it’s makes literally no difference to me if we aren’t best friends, but if I’ve done something to piss you off, I would like to know what it was,” Clarke says, looking him straight in the eye. He feels guilty, because he knows he’s being a hypocritical shit, judging her without knowing her just because she’s a social worker. And he feels betrayed for nursing a crush on a social worker, when it’s not her fault at all.

“I’m an asshole,” he admits to her, and she smirks at him. “You’re fine. We’re good. I’ll warm up eventually.” She’s still smirking at him, and acting on instinct he pulls his wrist back forcing her to step forward into his space, changes the grips so he has her grip and pulls her into a cross body free spin. For a moment, she’s magic again, and her whole face lights up, and when she stops, facing him, the light is still in in her eyes, and she’s laughing.

“Alright. Just make sure you’re worth it, Blake. See you tonight?” Clarke tells him, more than asks, before she walks off. He grins after her for a minute, and then his stomach turns at the social worker thing again. He’s either going to have to start taking something for his acid reflux or get over his social worker thing.

He’ll stop at the pharmacy on the way to salsa.

  
  
  


After class, Raven instructs him to go get them a pitcher of beer and two glasses because she’s a cripple who can’t possibly be asked to carry liquids up stairs. Bellamy’s pretty sure she could if she wanted to, because he’s pretty sure Raven can do anything. He’s pretty sure it’s just her way of getting free drinks. But hey, she does have a limp, and he could use a beer. When he returns, they slouch on a black leather couch that he tries not to think about blacklighting.

“So Clarke said you’re an asshole,” Raven tells him. Bellamy snorts.

“Clarke’s right. This isn’t new information,” he replies. Raven snorts derisively.

“Yeah, but I figured you were my kind of asshole, and thus her kind of asshole,” Raven explains. Bellamy’s actually concerned he’s kind of following her logic. “But she didn’t sound like she appreciated the asshole. She might actually dislike you, which is kind of incredible, because she doesn’t actively dislike anyone. Except maybe her mother. But who doesn’t have mother issues, right?” Bellamy shrugs.

“Yeah, I might have been more of an asshole than normal,” he admits. “But I like her. And she’s an amazing dancer.” He and Raven watch her dance with Wells for a moment. He’s watching their feet and she’s laughing at him.

“That boy never did figure out how to dance,” Raven sighs. “But be nicer to Clarke, yeah? She’s… she deserves better.” And then she winces. “If you tell her I said that I will disavow all knowledge, okay?” Bellamy laughs.

“I don’t think there’s any danger of that. Also, I wouldn’t trust you not to build a robot to kill me in my sleep,” he replies. Raven grins and she looks vicious and Bellamy’s glad they met. If they didn’t work together, he’d properly try making a move on her.

“If I ever kill you, you’ll be awake, and you’ll be facing me,” Raven tells him. Bellamy pauses as his brain sparks at the words.

“Did you just misquote Firefly at me?” he asks in wonder. She smiles again, but it’s less vicious. She offers her beer in a toast.

“Yeah, we’re going to be good friends, Blake,” Raven tells him. He laughs and taps her glass with his. “Now, I’m thinking our first year nine competition should be chubby bunny, it’s a classic.”

 

Bellamy’s thinking about leaving, and he’s not entirely sure how he feels about the way Octavia is looking at the giant aka Lincoln while they dance, so it might be time to separate them, when Clarke stands in front of him.

“We didn’t get to dance last week,” she points out, and then offers her hand. “Dance with me.” It’s not what he is expecting to happen after their last interaction, but one of his favourite songs is playing, and he can’t resist. That’s a lie, it’s her eyes he can’t resist, but he’s not ready for that to be a thing yet.

“Are you going to follow or back lead?” Bellamy asks, teasing, as they take closed position. Clarke grins at him.

“Depends on if you can actually lead,” she quips, and he laughs as they start to move.

 

The best dance of Bellamy’s life had happened when he was sixteen and leading a rueda circle. They were in a rotunda in the park on a Sunday afternoon with some of the other salsa families, and the dancers were a mix of kids and adults, and everyone was laughing and happy. He’d called the moves and watched his sister and mother laugh and spin, felt the music flow through him, and he felt more like he belonged than ever before. And then he danced with Clarke Griffin. He felt it from the first basic, the sweet spot. The way his step was perfectly fitted to hers despite their height difference, the way their thighs touched, the way she responded to his leads, felt in his arms, the resistance in her grip. The connection felt tangible and real and honest. He forgot about the room, about other people, about their jobs. There was the two of them, becoming one in the music. She finished a left hand turn against his body, her skirt catching, hitched up between them, and he’d never known a dance could feel so… charged. And then there was Clarke, who had turned into something magical. A nymph, his brain supplied, and he wanted to tell himself to stop being so ridiculous, but he couldn’t. The music stopped, and he froze, staring at her. Mistake, his brain supplied. Stupid, stupid mistake. You should never have danced with her. She was staring back. Raven wolf-whistled, shattering the moment and he rolled his eyes at her as the others applauded.

“That was some hot shit,” Miller commented to Clarke.

“Girl, that was sex on the floor,” Raven agreed. “Y’all need to get a room.”

“Bell, for real, I’ve never seen you that intense,” Octavia added. “That was awesome. You guys are hot.”

“Yeah, well, I’m amazing,” Clarke said dismissively, her cheeks slightly pink, though Bellamy supposed that could be from exertion. “I look good with everyone.”

“This is true,” Miller comments.

“Come on, Miller, I’m not ready to stop yet,” Clarke announces, and Miller follows her onto the dance floor. It’s only when she starts dancing that he realises she hasn’t looked him in the eye once since their dance ended. He sits down in between Octavia and Raven. Octavia’s watching Lincoln dance with Callie, but Raven’s giving him the side eye.

“I get it now, you’re emotionally retarded. You being an asshole is like pulling her pigtails on the playground,” Raven says. Bellamy snorts.

“Don’t be stupid Bellamy, you need to get laid and that was hot,” Octavia comments. Bellamy looks at her aghast.

“Never ever again do you talk about me getting laid. Ever,” Bellamy tells her. “It’s creepy.” Octavia shrugs.

“What? I’m just saying. And it was hot. Raven agrees, everyone agrees,” Octavia says, still staring at Lincoln. Bellamy’s pretty sure Lincoln is a good ten years older than his sister, and he’s not quite ready to let a twenty-eight year old man date is eighteen year old little sister. But he’s got no idea how to broach the subject either.

“Raven definitely agrees,” Raven says. “But, Raven also thinks that Clarke deserves a lot better than emotionally retarded bullshit. She’s had enough of that to last a lifetime.” Bellamy hears something in Raven’s tone that tells him there is a story here, and he glances at Clarke smiling and dancing with Miller. “Again, you tell her I said this, I kill you.” Bellamy rolls his eyes.

“The world doesn’t end if people find out Raven Reyes is nice,” Bellamy tells her. Raven barks out a laugh.

“Well, I’m not about to take the risk,” Raven tells him. “But I think your sister is right and you need to get laid.”

“Are you offering?” Bellamy asks drily.

“Ew, right here,” Octavia says distractedly, while Raven laughs again.

“I would definitely hit that, but there’s clearly some shit to deal with before you start screwing in the salsa circle,” Raven tells him.

“Well, that’s good to know,” Bellamy says. And then he pauses. “I’m not into Clarke.”

“You’re so into Clarke,” Octavia says, still staring at Lincoln.

“You’re definitely into Clarke,” Raven agrees. “But if she turns you down, we can definitely be fuck buddies.” Bellamy laughs and Octavia makes a retching noise.

“How about we start with a dance?” Bellamy asks Raven. She pulls a face.

“My knee’s done for the night. I may need to be carried down the stairs,” Raven says.

“You don’t mean that,” Bellamy tells her. As she says, “I’m joking. But go rescue Lincoln from Callie. She’s handsy.”

  
  
  


When Bellamy closes his eyes that night, he thinks about dancing with Clarke. He can’t even remember the music anymore. He just remembers how it felt, how she moved, how they fit. He stares at the ceiling blankly. The only reasons it’s complicated is because she’s not just the one thing, doesn’t fit in his life in one easy way. Women… they’d never fit in more than one box. And people never really do. When he moved to Arkadia, he kind of figured he’d be moving here to build a life, the kind of life that meant he’d stay here and make friends and actually belong somewhere. And that meant people that aren’t in boxes, people that fill spaces and are multitudes. People he might care about in the way he cares about his sister, though obviously not as much. And Clarke could belong in his life. She was beautiful, and magic when she danced, and she seemed like she liked to laugh. She pulled at him. But she was the other thing too. The social worker, the work colleague… Raven was right, he could stand to be nicer to her. Wasn’t her fault he hated social workers.

  
  
  


Bellamy and Raven are half way through their first Friday afternoon grade nine challenge, Ultimate Chubby Bunny, when Clarke appears in his doorway. She’s not surveying their mess of forty odd teenagers with way too many marshmallows with the humour he and Raven are. Instead, Clarke’s kind of glaring at him meaningfully, and he knows he’s being summoned.

“You’re in trouble,” Raven mutters to him, shoving his shoulder. Bellamy rolls his eyes at her. School’s only been in for two weeks and there are already plenty of rumours about what Mr Blake and Ms Reyes get up to after hours.

“Mr Blake, if you have a minute?” Clarke asks loudly from the doorway. A couple of the students invite her to try chubby bunny with them, and she politely declines and then goes back to glaring at him expectantly. He coughs and excuses himself to Raven before negotiating his way to where she’s standing in the door frame.

“We need to talk about Dax,” Clarke tells him quietly. Bellamy frowns, thinking, not entirely sure who Dax is. Clarke rolls her eyes. “Darren Xander, he goes by Dax. He’s been removed from his home and sent to his grandparents in Emerson.” Bellamy’s jaw tenses. Emerson is four hours away. Away from his friends, school, support networks, and anything normal.

“Don’t suppose you’re aware that he has an uncle locally that he usually stays with when his parents are particularly useless?” Bellamy grinds out. Clarke raises her eyebrows.

“I’m not actually in charge of CPS, Be-, Mr Blake, and I think you’ll find that this isn’t a conversation to be had when anyone can overhear,” she bites back. “It’s just a courtesy I’m stopping by at all and not just sending you an email.” Bellamy struggles not to actively grind his teeth at her. It’s like this every time they interact at school. At salsa they’re friendly, and then they dance like it’s magic, but come Friday morning, they’re glaring at each other in the staff room. He glances over his shoulder at Raven, who rolls her eyes at him, and then nods, letting him leave.

“Come on then,” Bellamy tells her, and she turns on her heel and leads him towards his office.

 

Clarke sits on his guest chair, legs crossed and arms folded primly. Her blonde hair is pulled tightly back in a ponytail, and Bellamy wants to hit her. She’s nothing of the dancer, she’s solid Miss Griffin, social worker, and his back is up before she even opens her mouth again. She’s clearly ready for a fight. But she deflates, slouching, and she looks at him with honesty.

“Look, it’s been known for some time that Dax’s home life has been less than suitable. His mother hooks from home and his father’s an abusive alcoholic,” Clarke sighs. And then she leans forward, frowning. “The uncle, David, while being a far superior and safer environment, has a gambling addiction. Because everyone is just fucked up in their whole family because, yay, generational poverty and no support of any god damned kind, because they’ve got no idea how to help and even if they did they’d say they couldn’t afford it. So, yeah, I do everything I god damn can for these kids, and I’m still ignored by CPS. And all I can do is be there for them until they take them out of the district and give them to grandparents that produced four adults, one dead from gang violence, two alcoholics, and David the fucking gambler.” Clarke finishes her rant, slumping back. “I don’t know what you want from me, Bellamy, I really don’t.” Bellamy’s not actually sure how he’s still breathing, watching her rant, impassioned, angry, defeated. He’s only got one thought floating through his head, and he verbalises it.

“I’m sorry,” he tells her quietly. They sit in companionable, commiserating silence for a few moments. Then something in her eyes changes, and she looks at him, considering.

“And I just don’t get why you hate me,” Clarke says softly. Bellamy feels guilt coil in his stomach, and he offers a half smile.

“I don’t hate you,” he tells her. And then he huffs out a laugh. “In fact, if there were more social workers like you in the world I probably wouldn’t have been such a jerk.” Clarke shorts and buries her face in her hands momentarily.

“You’re kidding me? You didn’t like me because I’m a social worker?” Clarke asks in disbelief. Bellamy shrugs, embarrassed. “Did a social worker run over your dog or something?” Bellamy shook his head.

“No, social workers tried to take my sister from me,” Bellamy says, tired. And Clarke scowls.

“Are you serious? When? Why? Where you a drug addict or something?” she asks, scandalised. “That’s such bullshit. You’d do anything for her!” She shakes her head, clearly trying to find something to say but failing to find words. Bellamy sighs.

“She didn’t react to mum’s death well, and I was nineteen years old and studying and working nights in a bar. I wasn’t exactly an ideal parental figure,” he admits. “But she’s my sister, and I made it work.” Clarke slumps back.

“Being a social worker sucks balls sometimes. I love the kids. But sometimes… CPS and the parents… I just want to… smack them in the fracking face. And other social workers. Sometimes they just don’t even care. They should have been accountants or something,” Clarke says, and Bellamy laughs a little, but then she looks at him, serious. “But I really don’t like that you thought I was like that,” she adds quietly. Bellamy’s not sure what to say to that. To any of it, really. Because he’s pretty sure he’s accidentally going to fall in love with her. Because she’s fierce passion and justice, and she dances… And it’s not the reason they’re here.

“So, what can we do about Dax then? Do we abandon him to his grandparents? Do we write a letter of recommendation?” Bellamy asks. Clarke sighs.

“Not much we can do really. I can get a letter to him. But CPS doesn’t want to hear about it, I’ve already filed my reports and recommendations. All of which they freaking ignored,” Clarke tells him. Bellamy nods.

“Well, I don’t think they’d be any point in my writing,” Bellamy admits. “Two weeks. It’s nothing. But you’ve got my permission to take any of his friends out of my classes to write something if you think it would be good.” Clarke smiles gratefully.

“Thanks Bellamy,” she says softly. And Bellamy wants to touch her cheek. There is an awkward pause, and he can’t look at her directly.

“I should get back,” he says, standing up. And Clarke joins him.

“Right, yeah, sorry,” she says. “I’ll let you get back to it.” Bellamy hovers for a moment.

“If you, uh, if you want, I know the kids would love to have you join us,” he offers. She grins.

“Yeah, I’ve got ten minutes,” Clarke agrees.

 

When they get back to the classroom, Clarke is assailed by a pair of students, Fox and Charlotte, who want to see how many marshmallows she could fit in at once. Bellamy makes his way back to sitting beside Raven.

“Well that went better than expected then,” Raven says quietly. Bellamy ignores her. “Does this mean you’re going to be friends now? Are you going to do something about all that… uh… tension?” Raven continues in a whisper.

“You could stop talking any time you like, you know, particularly while there are people around that might overhear,” Bellamy hisses back. Raven snorts.

“You can tell me that you aren’t interested in all of that,” Raven adds, gesturing to Clarke, who has is laughing and trying to talk with ten marshmallows in her mouth. Bellamy smiles absently. “And the way you guys dance.”

“You’re the worst. Incorrigible. Go tend to your students,” Bellamy instructs her. She gives him a look that conveys her superiority and heads towards a group of students who were trying to say pick up lines instead of the approved phrase of ‘chubby bunny’.

  
  


“So when are you going to do something about your thing with Clarke,” Octavia asks, laying down on the couch with her boots on the arm. Bellamy’s cooking them dinner and he’s pretty sure he should say something about the boots, but he’s just glad she’s not using again.

“I don’t have a thing with Clarke,” Bellamy says, and then he pauses. “No, I do have a thing with Clarke. I don’t think the thing with Clarke is a thing I need to do anything about.” Octavia snorts.

“I’ve got a date with Lincoln tomorrow night,” she tells him. Bellamy puts the knife down and frowns at her.

“Lincoln is thirty years old,” Bellamy begins.

“Twenty-six, actually,” Octavia cuts in.

“Oh great, yes, perfect. He’s only eight years older than you. That’s like a third of your life again, O,” Bellamy replies. “Awesome. Right, that sounds exactly the sort of shit we came here to avoid.” Octavia kicks her feet off the couch and swings around to sit up and glare at him.

“Don’t give me that shit, Bell. You know I’m clean. I’m going to school. I’m doing fine. I meet a nice guy. A really nice, normal guy who likes hiking and dancing and works as an acupuncturist,” Octavia tells him, and Bellamy feels chastised, but he’s still frustrated. The line between big brother and parent gets blurred so often, and he feels kind of lost. He wishes he could call someone, anyone, and ask what he’s meant to say.

“He’s… he’s too old for you, O, and we don’t know him, not really,” Bellamy sighs. Octavia snorts.

“You’d say this about anyone, Bellamy. Anyone I was interested in. You don’t trust me, and I’m technically an adult,” Octavia snaps at him, and storms off - to her room, thank god, and not out the front door like she used to.

 

Clarke. That’s who he wants to call, who he feels will get it. Even better, she knows Lincoln, and can reassure him that he’s not some almost-pedophile cradle-snatching weirdo, but rather a nice, decent man who is going to look after his baby sister. But he doesn’t know how to make that call. Hi Clarke, I know I’ve never called before but I need to talk through my parenting decisions and I don’t know who else to call. Fuck. He didn’t even know her number. He’d have to call Raven. Fucking Raven, who was going to give him hell for this. Octavia started blasting some sort of furiously angry music. He definitely needs some advice. Then he remembers that her mobile was listed as the contact information for the salsa class. Ten seconds of googling and he had it. Now all he needed was the courage to actually dial the damn number. Octavia’s door cracks open and he looks at it hopefully.

“You’re an overprotective dickhead!” she shouts at him, and then slams the door again. Yep. Courage found. He dialled the number.

 

“This is Clarke,” she answered. Something in his stomach uncoiled at her voice.

“Hi Clarke, it’s uh… Bellamy, Bellamy Blake?” he said awkwardly. Clarke laughed.

“I know who you are, Bellamy,” she says. “What can I do for you?” Bellamy sighed.

“I think I’m calling you for parenting advice,” he admits. “And if you ever tell Raven about this I swear…” Clarke laughs again.

“Yeah, no, never telling Raven. Fine. What’s up?” she asks again.

“She has a date with Lincoln,” Bellamy says. There is a loaded silence.

“Is that it?” Clarke asks. “She’s going on a date with Lincoln Crew, the giant teddy bear? This is your parenting problem? She’s eighteen, surely she’s dated before.” Bellamy stared at the half chopped potatoes.

“Yes, but, she wasn’t exactly great at making choices and we came here for a fresh start and she’s about to go screw a man twice her age,” Bellamy said. Clarke snorted.

“You’re so hyperbolic, Bellamy. Eight years. And I don’t think they’ll be screwing just yet. I’m pretty sure it’s just a first date. And he’s clearly besotted with her. He’s a good guy, Bell, she could do worse,” Clarke said. “Like that sleazy bastard Murphy.” He wants to argue with her, but he knows she’s right, so he sighs.

“You think I need to apologise, don’t you? She hates me and she’s right to,” he sighs. “I’m an overprotective dickhead.” Clarke makes a sympathetic noise.

“She doesn’t hate you, Bellamy. She’s never going to hate you. She’s just a teenager and she’s clearly trying to do the right thing and she likes a guy who likes her back. And Lincoln’s solid. He’s a good choice. And you’re just trying to do the right thing for her and look out for her,” Clarke tells him. He snorts.

“That’s social worker psycho-babble right there,” Bellamy teases, and she laughs.

“Right, sorry. You’re a dick. Go apologise,” Clarke instructs him, and he grins, feeling better.

“Thanks Clarke,” he says.

“Any time,” Clarke replies. “I mean it. Any time.” There’s something that twists inside him at that. Something that makes him think about belonging and the kind of people he wants to be around, the kind of people that make you a better person. He tenses, feels the asshole in him rearing his head.

“Uh, yeah, thanks,” he manages. “See you later.” He can tell he sounds borderline rude, but he can’t help it either.

“Bye Bellamy,” Clarke says, like she doesn’t notice his tone, and then disconnects. Bellamy sighs and then goes to face Octavia.

 

“I’m an ass,” he says, sitting on her bed. She turns down the music, so he counts it at as a win. “You were right, completely overprotective dickhead. Lincoln’s a nice guy, and even if he wasn’t, I should give you the benefit of the doubt because you know which way is up.” Octavia rolls over and looks up at him.

“Then why are you such an asshole?” she asks. Bellamy runs a hand through his hair.

“I don’t know, O. I’m scared. I’m just scared I’m fucking everything up all the time. Scared I’m going to lose you, scared I’m a shitty role model or whatever. I don’t know. But you’re right that you’re technically an adult. I’m sorry, okay. I don’t love that you’ve picked an older guy, but hey, you make your choices,” Bellamy says. Octavia narrows her eyes.

“Who did you talk to?” she demands. Bellamy raises his eyebrows. But Octavia dismisses him with a wave.

“Clarke,” he admits. Octavia hits him. “What?”

“You called Clarke? You have a calling Clarke for advice relationship?” Octavia demands. Bellamy sighs.

“I suppose so, yes. She’s a social worker, she has wisdom,” Bellamy attempts to defend himself. “And she knows Lincoln.”

“You hate social workers. You like Clarke. I mean, you must really like Clarke,” Octavia accuses him. Bellamy sighs and shakes his head.

“You know what, O? Whatever you like. Enjoy your date. I expect to have dinner with the two of you after five proper dates.” Octavia scowls.

“Fine. But no shovel talk and we meet on neutral ground,” she offers, and Bellamy smiles.

“Deal.”

  
  
  


Next Thursday night, Bellamy watches Miller and Clarke dance and teach interact. Normally, he’s dancing almost the whole time, but tonight he watches. There’s a new guy tonight, Kyle Wick, and he’s taken a shine to Raven, who seems to have taken a shine to berating him, so he’s sitting alone. Which is hilarious to listen to:

“For god’s sake, Wick, one two three wait five six seven wait. Stop moving on four and eight you moron.”

“Okay, right, I can do that.”

“Frame! Jesus. Your arms are goddamned noodles.”

But Clarke and Miller murmur to each other quietly, heads bent towards each other, and he can’t help but think they aren’t just dance partners. He’s disconcerted by the jealousy he feels in the pit of his stomach. He leaves before they have their weekly dance.

 

Clarke is waiting for him against his office door when he arrives at 8:15am on Friday morning.

“You know, if people see you waiting for me like this, they’re going to talk,” Bellamy tells her, reaching beside her to unlock the door.

“Ah yes, but of course, then they’d have to stop talking about how much they ship “Rey-Lake”,” Clarke returns. Bellamy frowns at her, confused. “Reyes and Blake,” she explains. Bellamy grimaces.

“These kids seriously need to get a life,” Bellamy tells her, indicating she should go into the office ahead of him.

“Be grateful you aren’t getting love letters. This could go the other way,” Clarke teases.

“Yeah, and I bet none of them are ever a little in love with you,” Bellamy replies dryly. Clarke laughs, and then sits in his guest seat. He drops his bag and puts his files on his desk, sifting through them for the ones he needs this morning while Clarke watches him.

“You were weird last night,” Clarke announces. He looks at her, slightly startled.

“What?” he asks. She gave him an unimpressed look.

“You know you were weird. We didn’t even dance. We always dance. It’s the highlight of my Thursday,” Clarke tells him. Bellamy stares at her blankly. He’s got so many thoughts going through his head that he can’t formulate a sentence. He has a bizarre flash to the moment in Scott Pilgrim Vs the World when the brain dial spins and ends up stuck between the two phrases… ‘I need to pee on her’.

“What?” he says again, hoping for some clarity or, you know, a clue on what to say. Clarke sighs.

“Fine, whatever. Be weird. I just thought we were friends or whatever,” Clarke says tiredly, and stands up to leave. The thoughts push out of Bellamy’s brain and he screws up his face.

“No, wait. Don’t. I’m sorry. I was weird,” Bellamy agrees. And she looks at him expectantly. He’s pretty sure that this would be the wrong time to tell her about the thing he has for her, or how she’s the kind of friend he wants to keep and how normal it felt to call her for Octavia advice. So he says nothing while she stares at him.

“Well?” she asks. And he knows he’s about to say something stupid.

“Well what?” he decides on, and he knows it’s a mistake before the words leave his dumb mouth. Clarke’s eyes are crackling with lightning before he finishes talking. He knows he’s fucked up and he’s not sure how he’s going to fix it.

“You’re such a fucking asshole, Bellamy. You’re hot and cold all the freaking time and I can’t figure the fuck out and it’s driving me way crazier than it should,” Clarke tells him, stepping into his space. And then Bellamy loses all motor control and steps in and kisses her. He barely has time to realise she’s kissing him back when he pulls back in shock. Her eyes are still closed and she’s leaning forward.

“Shit. I’m… I’m sorry. I, uh… I didn’t meant to,” he gestures. Clarke opens her eyes and leans back, glaring at him again.

“This is exactly what I’m talking about. You didn’t mean it. Well, what did you mean?” Clarke demands.

“Are you with Miller?” Bellamy asks. “Because if you are I’m really fucking sorry.” Clarke looks at him in abject disbelief.

“Am I with Miller?” Clarke repeats incredulously. “Am I with Nathan Miller, aka my dance partner, aka my first cousin? Are you out of your goddamned mind?” There is a moment where it sinks in, where it all makes sense, but he’s frozen to the spot. “And with the way we dance feels, how could you think I even wanted to be with someone who wasn’t you?” He’s pretty sure that this is the moment when he’s actually meant to kiss her, but he doesn’t move. In fact, he might be scowling. Why the fuck is he scowling? “And then you kiss me like you love me after you called me for parenting advice, and I’m thinking you might like me and then you just shut off again.”

“I’m an asshole,” Bellamy agrees. “I’m a twenty-five year old mess with an eighteen year old sister I’m trying to learn to trust. You’re a beautiful social worker who dances with this… magic. And it reminds me of the way my mother used to light up when she danced. And you’re way too good for me. You should just… stay far away from this disaster zone. I agree with you,” Bellamy tells her. Clarke blinks twice.

“You’re such a fucking idiot,” she tells him, and then she steps forward to kiss him. He’s not entirely sure why it’s happening, but it is, so he enjoys the moment. She opens her mouth to him and he tastes her, his hand skims her back while the other sinks into her hair. He’s hardly virginal, but this is probably the best kiss he’s ever had in his life, and it’s Clarke.

And then the first bell goes, and they break apart suddenly, staring at each other awkwardly.

“This is a conversation we will have,” Clarke says seriously. Bellamy nods.

“Absolutely. Conversation,” Bellamy agrees. “I’ll look forward to it.” Clarke nods awkwardly.

“I have to go. I’m doing a behavioural conference,” Clarke says, backing away. Bellamy nods.

“Yes, and I have to teach English,” Bellamy agrees, nodding. “So we’ll talk later.”

“Later,” Clarke agrees. She leaves the room, and Bellamy stares at the door for a moment. She comes back a second later.

“There’s definitely going to be a conversation, isn’t there? I mean, you maybe want this?” Clarke asks. “Because you’re an asshole and honestly, I feel like you are, but it’s kind of hard to tell.” Bellamy grins at her.

“At some point you should probably not tell the guy you’re hoping to date that he’s an asshole in every second sentence,” he points out. She snorts at him.

“Definitely an asshole. Definitely serious. Good, glad we sorted that out. See you after school,” Clarke tells him, and then she’s gone.

 

He finds Raven at lunchtime, swearing under her breath in the auto shop and kicking things. He watches on with amusement for a while until she notices him standing there, and then she scowls at him.

“This engine is a piece of shit and I’m pretty sure my last class actually made it worse instead of better. It’s like they’re actively trying not to learn,” she complains. Bellamy grins at her.

“You’re adorable when you scowl,” he says, and her scowl deepens. “That right there, that’s what makes all the boys fall in love with you.” Raven throws a bolt at him, but he ducks out of the way.

“Hey, not the face. I might need to look pretty later,” Bellamy complains. Raven gives him a look of disbelief.

“It’s a Friday night and you’re probably going home to grade papers like the boring octogenarian you act like,” she says, and he shrugs off the insult.

“I might have a date,” Bellamy says. Raven curses in spanish and he’s pretty she’s asking for the good lord to give her strength.

“You’re too much of a chickenshit to ask out the girl you should be dating, so if you’re just fucking around for the sake of it, you’re probably an idiot with the emotional maturity of a cactus,” Raven sighs. “Are you a cactus, Blake?”

“I kissed her. It was an accident,” Bellamy admits. And Raven laughs so hard she nearly falls over.

“It was an accident,” she wheezes. “Dios, Blake, you’re mess.” He grins.

“I know. It went kind of well, actually,” he confides. Raven shakes her head.

“You’re such an idiot. I can’t believe she likes you,” she says, but she’s smiling.

“You like me,” Bellamy points out. “You said I was tolerable company last week.” Raven rolls her eyes.

“You set such a low bar for affection. I’m surprised you haven’t been snapped up already. What a catch,” Raven deadpans. Bellamy grins again.

“Admit you’re proud of me,” Bellamy tells her. ‘“I made moves. I kissed the girl. We’re having a serious conversation that will end in dating this afternoon.” Raven scowls at him again.

“Octavia was right, you’re a human disaster. How are you like this and so responsible? Stop gloating. Some of us aren’t even in talks to get laid,” Raven scolds him. Bellamy raises his eyebrows.

“You could be getting laid if you wanted to be,” Bellamy tells her. She rolls her eyes.

“Yes, the gimpy tomboy is a hottie,” she says sarcastically. Bellamy scoffs.

“Don’t be an idiot, Reyes. You are a total hottie, you’re clever, and I’d totally date you. And so would Wick,” Bellamy suggested. Raven throws another bolt at him, and he laughs and retreats.

“I am happy for you, asshole,” Raven shouts after him, and he doesn’t bother reminding her she’s not meant to curse at school.

 

Octavia calls him at lunch.

“You accidentally kissed Clarke?” she demands, before he even has the chance to say hello. He feels like he should be more embarrassed about this than he is, but he’s kind of pleased actually.

“Yes, yes I did,” he tells her. She sighs.

“I despair of you, big brother. You are such a disaster,” Octavia tells him. “I’m assuming you’ll be home late then? Or do I need to make myself scarce?”

“I’ll be late. But I’ll be home for dinner,” he promises.

“You kissed her and you aren’t even taking her on a date? What the hell is wrong with you? Did I not make you watch enough rom coms?” Octavia demands.

“Yes, thank you, Octavia,” he says tiredly. “You definitely made me watch enough rom coms. And I might want to have time to actually plan a date.”

“You’re a romantic, you’re turning into a romantic, and it’s going to be a disaster,” Octavia says gleefully. “This is the best.”

“Love you too, O,” Bellamy says sarcastically, and then disconnects.

 

Clarke appears in his office at 3:35pm, and he’s still talking to Charlotte about her history assignment. She smiles awkwardly in the doorway.

“Do I need to come back?” Clarke asks. Bellamy smiles at her.

“We’re nearly finished,” Bellamy tells her and Charlotte nods.

“Sorry Miss Griffin,” Charlotte says. “I’ve almost got it.” Clarke nods and disappears again, but his head stops working and Charlotte looks at him sympathetically.

“It’s okay, Mr Blake. We can talk tomorrow,” she tells him. He smiles apologetically.

“Sorry Charlotte,” he says, and she grins, picks up her book and leaves. Clarke’s back in thirty seconds

“Sorry,” Clarke says. “I should have… waited longer.” He grins.

“Eager to see me?” Bellamy asks hopefully, and she smiles back as she sits opposite him.

“Shut up. I just… you like me, right? I mean, actually like me as a human being who you want to make out with and spend time with, yeah?” Clarke asks. Bellamy tries not to grin, nodding slowly as if giving it serious thought.

“I could think of worse ways to spend my time, I guess,” he tells her, barely keeping his face straight, and Clarke hits.

“Shut up. I’m serious, Bellamy. You’re kind of hard to read,” Clarke says. “And I like you kind of a lot and I’ve been really high school about this, and Miller is really disappointed in me.” He smiles at her softly, at the crease on her brow. He reaches out and takes her hand.

“I’ve been a bit in lust with you since the first time I saw you dance. And then I called you, about Octavia, and it was like… you were the only person I could think of calling, and the only person I wanted to call,” Bellamy says. Clarke’s biting her lip, and he knows that she’s waiting for him to actually say the words, so he does. “I like you,” he confirms. Clarke squeezes his hand.

“So. This is a thing then,” Clarke says. Bellamy nods. Clarke swallows thickly. Bellamy licks his lips.

“Is this usually this awkward?” Bellamy asks. “Is there some sort of pro forma we follow?” Clarke laughed and slouched back in her seat, slipping her hand out of his.

“Usually not this awkward, no. Pretty sure you’re meant to invite me on some kind of date,” she tells him. He grins.

“Do you want to go out on a date with me?” Bellamy asks. Clarke rolls her eyes.

“Asshole. Yes. I want to go on a date with you. When? Where?” she asks.

“I don’t know yet. It may require planning. I might want it to be special and memorable,” Bellamy says. Clarke laughs.

“You’re an idiot. I’m assuming you want to be home for Octavia tonight, but I’d seriously be happy with pizza and a movie at yours. I have a feeling that’s going to be more our speed in general,” Clarke tells him.

“And dancing,” Bellamy reminds. Clarke smiles.

“Yeah, and dancing,” she agrees. Bellamy’s pretty sure it’s not going to get much better than this.

 

Except it does, because four hours later, Octavia and Clarke are yelling at the television, and there’s cheese dropping on the armchair where O’s sitting because she’s distracted. Clarke’s nestled into his side, and the movie is awful, and he can’t even remember what it’s called. But this is his life now. He really hopes he doesn’t fuck it up. Later, when Clarke leaves, he can’t resist pushing her into an enchufla before pulling her tightly into closed position.

“Hi,” she says softly.

“Hey,” Bellamy replies.

“This was fun,” Clarke tells him, looking up at him. Bellamy presses his forehead against hers.

“Yeah, it was. I like spending time with you,” Clarke says. He’s pretty sure he’s grinning like an idiot, and he doesn’t care.

“So we can do this again?” Bellamy asks quietly.

“I kind of think we’re going to end up arguing a lot,” Clarke tells him, pulling back a bit. “You’re kind of an asshole and I’m really good at overstepping boundaries.” Bellamy nods in agreement.

“Today I have been told I am both a human disaster and someone with the emotional level of a cactus,” Bellamy confides, and she laughs at him.

“So I figure we’re going to fight. But I want it on… I just... ,” Clarke trails off.

“We’re going to fight,” Bellamy agrees. “Storming out and shouting will not qualify as an end.” Clarke nods.

“Glad we’ve got that sorted,” Clarke agrees. “Now kiss me goodnight.” So he presses her up against the door and leans into her, leading with his mouth. She responds, rolling her body up against his in ways that he hardly thinks is fair. And then she makes this little pleased noise and he’s so completely lost and pulling back in a hurry. Clarke slumps against his door, looking at him.

“I live alone,” Clarke offers. “And your sister is an adult.” Bellamy grins.

“Next time,” he promises. She grinned back at him.

“Next time,” Clarke agrees. And Bellamy’s pretty grateful for many next times in the future.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> [This links to a video of some excellent social NY salsa dancing, because it looks different to how it does on SYTYCD.](http://www.be-dance.net/nery-garcia-liz-lira-social-dancing-at-orlando-salsa-congress-2015)  
> [And this one links to what rueda looks like, which is a form of social Cuban salsa.](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6s2IVHrPNCc) The words on the screen are usually called by a male in the dance, and you can almost here this guy making the calls, and everyone does the move on the next count of one (salsa has eight counts, regardless of Cuban or NY).   
>  This is a lot of salsa explaining, but I'm told that this was the big flaw in this fic. Nobody knew what I was really talking about.


End file.
